by Virgil
in adverse war, how on himself they call
to keep his pledge, and with indignant eyes
gaze all his way, fierce rage implacable
swells his high heart. As when on Libyan plain
a lion, gashed along his tawny breast
by the huntsman’s grievous thrust, awakens him
unto his last grim fight, and gloriously
shaking the great thews of his maned neck,
shrinks not, but crushes the despoiler’s spear
with blood-sprent, roaring mouth, — not less than so
burns the wild soul of Turnus and his ire.
Thus to the King he spoke with stormful brow:
“The war lags not for Turnus’ sake. No cause
constrains the Teucrian cowards and their King
to eat their words and what they pledged refuse.
On his own terms I come. Bring forward, sire,
the sacrifice, and seal the pact I swear:
either to deepest hell this hand shall fling
yon Trojan runaway — the Latins all
may sit at ease and see! — and my sole sword
efface the general shame; or let him claim
the conquest, and Lavinia be his bride.”
To him Latinus with unruffled mind
thus made reply: “O youth surpassing brave!
The more thy sanguinary valor burns
beyond its wont, the more with toilsome care
I ponder with just fear what chance may fall,
weighing it well. Thy father Daunus’ throne,
and many a city by thy sword subdued,
are still thy own. Latinus also boasts
much golden treasure and a liberal hand.
Other unwedded maids of noble stem
in Latium and Laurentine land are found.
Permit me, then, to tell thee without guile
things hard to utter; let them deeply fill
thy listening soul. My sacred duty ’twas
to plight my daughter’s hand to nonesoe’er
of all her earlier wooers — so declared
the gods and oracles; but overcome
by love of thee, by thy dear, kindred blood,
and by the sad eyes of my mournful Queen,
I shattered every bond; I snatched away
the plighted maiden from her destined lord,
and took up impious arms. What evil case
upon that deed ensued, what hapless wars,
thou knowest, since thyself dost chiefly bear
the cruel burden. In wide-ranging fight
twice-conquered, our own city scarce upholds
the hope of Italy. Yon Tiber’s wave
still runs warm with my people’s blood; the plains
far round us glisten with their bleaching bones.
Why tell it o’er and o’er? What maddening dream
perverts my mind? If after Turnus slain
I must for friendship of the Trojan sue,
were it not better to suspend the fray
while Turnus lives? For what will be the word
of thy Rutulian kindred — yea, of all
Italia, if to death I give thee o’er —
(Which Heaven avert!) because thou fain wouldst win
my daughter and be sworn my friend and son?
Bethink thee what a dubious work is war;
have pity on thy father’s reverend years,
who even now thy absence daily mourns
in Ardea, his native land and thine.”
But to this pleading Turnus’ frenzied soul
yields not at all, but rather blazes forth
more wildly, and his fever fiercer burns
beneath the healer’s hand. In answer he,
soon as his passion gathered voice, began:
“This keen solicitude for love of me,
I pray, good sire, for love of me put by!
And let me traffic in the just exchange
of death for glory. This right hand, O King,
can scatter shafts not few, nor do I wield
untempered steel. Whene’er I make a wound
blood follows. For my foeman when we meet
will find no goddess-mother near, with hand
to hide him in her woman’s skirt of cloud,
herself in dim, deluding shade concealed.”
But now the Queen, whose whole heart shrank in fear
from these new terms of duel, wept aloud,
and like one dying clasped her fiery son:
“O Turnus, by these tears-if in thy heart
thou honorest Amata still — O thou
who art of our distressful, dark old age
the only hope and peace, the kingly name
and glory of Latinus rests in thee;
thou art the mighty prop whereon is stayed
our falling house. One favor I implore:
give o’er this fight with Trojans. In such strife
thy destined doom is destined to be mine
by the same fatal stroke. For in that hour
this hated life shall cease, nor will I look
with slave’s eyes on Aeneas as my son.”
Lavinia heard her mother’s voice, and tears
o’erflowed her scarlet cheek, where blushes spread
like flame along her warm, young face and brow:
as when the Indian ivory must wear
ensanguined crimson stain, or lilies pale
mingled with roses seem to blush, such hues
her virgin features bore; and love’s desire
disturbed his breast, as, gazing on the maid,
his martial passion fiercer flamed; whereon
in brief speech he addressed the Queen: “No tears!
No evil omen, mother, I implore!
Make me no sad farewells, as I depart
to the grim war-god’s game! Can Turnus’ hand
delay death’s necessary coming? Go,
Idmon, my herald, to the Phrygian King,
and tell him this — a word not framed to please:
soon as Aurora from her crimson car
flushes to-morrow’s sky, let him no more
against the Rutule lead the Teucrian line;
let Teucrian swords and Rutule take repose,
while with our own spilt blood we twain will make
an end of war; on yonder mortal field
let each man woo Lavinia for his bride.”
So saying, he hied him to his lordly halls,
summoned his steeds, and with pleased eye surveyed
their action proud: them Orithyia, bride
of Boreas, to Sire Pilumnus gave,
which in their whiteness did surpass the snow
in speed the wind. The nimble charioteers
stood by and smote with hollowed hand and palm
the sounding chests, or combed the necks and manes.
But he upon his kingly shoulders clasped
his corselet, thick o’erlaid with blazoned gold
and silvery orichalch; he fitted him
with falchion, shield, and helm of purple plume,
that falchion which the Lord of Fire had made
for Daunus, tempering in the Stygian wave
when white it glowed; next grasped he the good spear
which leaned its weight against a column tall
in the mid-court, Auruncan Actor’s spoil,
and waved it wide in air with mighty cry:
“O spear, that ne’er did fail me when I called,
the hour is come! Once mighty Actor’s hand,
but now the hand of Turnus is thy lord.
Grant me to strike that carcase to the ground,
and with strong hand the corselet rip and rend
from off that Phrygian eunuch: let the dust
befoul those tresses, tricked to curl so fine
with singeing steel and sleeked with odorous oil.”
Such frenzy goads him: his impassion
ed brow
is all on flame, the wild eyes flash with fire.
Thus, bellowing loud before the fearful fray,
some huge bull proves the fury of his horns,
pushing against a tree-trunk; his swift thrusts
would tear the winds in pieces; while his hoofs
toss up the turf and sand, rehearsing war.
That self-same day with aspect terrible
Aeneas girt him in the wondrous arms
his mother gave; made sharp his martial steel,
and roused his heart to ire; though glad was he
to seal such truce and end the general war.
Then he spoke comfort to his friends; and soothed
Iulus’ fear, unfolding Heaven’s intent;
but on Latinus bade his heralds lay
unyielding terms and laws of peace impose.
Soon as the breaking dawn its glory threw
along the hills, and from the sea’s profound
leaped forth the horses of the sun-god’s car,
from lifted nostrils breathing light and fire,
then Teucrian and Rutulian measured out
a place for duel, underneath the walls
of the proud city. In the midst were set
altars of turf and hearth-stones burning bright
in honor of their common gods. Some brought
pure waters and the hallowed flame, their thighs
in priestly skirt arrayed, and reverend brows
with vervain bound. Th’ Ausonians, spear in hand,
out from the city’s crowded portals moved
in ordered column: next the Trojans all,
with Tuscan host in various martial guise,
equipped with arms of steel, as if they heard
stern summons to the fight. Their captains, too,
emerging from the multitude, in pride
of gold and purple, hurried to and fro:
Mnestheus of royal stem, Asilas brave;
and Neptune’s offspring, tamer of the steed,
Messapus. Either host, at signal given,
to its own ground retiring, fixed in earth
the long shafts of the spears and stacked the shields.
Then eagerly to tower and rampart fly
the women, the infirm old men, the throng
of the unarmed, and sit them there at gaze,
or on the columned gates expectant stand.
But Juno, peering from that summit proud
which is to-day the Alban (though that time
nor name nor fame the hallowed mountain knew),
surveyed the plain below and fair array
of Trojan and Laurentine, by the walls
of King Latinus. Whereupon straightway
with Turnus’ sister she began converse,
goddess with goddess; for that nymph divine
o’er Alba’s calm lakes and loud rivers reigns;
Jove, the high monarch of th’ ethereal sky,
gave her such glory when he stole away
her virgin zone. “O nymph”, she said, “who art
the pride of flowing streams, and much beloved
of our own heart! thou knowest thou alone
hast been my favorite of those Latin maids
that to proud Jove’s unthankful bed have climbed;
and willingly I found thee place and share
in our Olympian realm. So blame not me,
but hear, Juturna, what sore grief is thine:
while chance and destiny conceded aught
of strength to Latium’s cause, I shielded well
both Turnus and thy city’s wall; but now
I see our youthful champion make his war
with fates adverse. The Parcae’s day of doom
implacably impends. My eyes refuse
to Iook upon such fight, such fatal league.
If for thy brother’s life thou couldst be bold
to venture some swift blow, go, strike it now!
‘T is fit and fair! Some issue fortunate
may tread on sorrow’s heel.” She scarce had said,
when rained the quick tears from Juturna’s eyes.
Three times and yet again her desperate hand
smote on her comely breast. But Juno cried,
“No tears to-day! But haste thee, haste and find
what way, if way there be, from clutch of death
to tear thy brother free; arouse the war;
their plighted peace destroy. I grant thee leave
such boldness to essay.” With this command
she left the nymph dismayed and grieving sore.
Meanwhile the kings ride forth: Latinus first,
looming tall-statured from his four-horse car;
twelve rays of gold encircle his bright brow,
sign of the sun-god, his progenitor;
next Turnus, driving snow-white steeds, is seen, —
two bread-tipped javelins in his hand he bears;
Aeneas, of Rome’s blood the source and sire,
with star-bright shield and panoply divine,
far-shining comes; Ascanius by his side —
of Roman greatness the next hope is he.
To camp they rode, where, garbed in blameless white,
with youngling swine and two-year sheep unshorn,
the priest before the flaming altars drove
his flock and offering: to the rising sun
all eyes are lifted, as with careful hand
the salted meal is scattered, while with knives
they mark each victim’s brow, outpouring wine
from shallow bowls, the sacrifice to bless.
Then good Aeneas, his sword drawn, put forth
this votive prayer: “O Sun in heaven; and thou,
Italia, for whom such toils I bear,
be witness of my orison. On thee,
Father omnipotent, I call; on thee,
his Queen Saturnia, — now may she be
more gracious to my prayer! O glorious Mars,
beneath whose godhead and paternity
all wars begin and end, on thee I call;
hail, all ye river-gods and haunted springs;
hail, whatsoever gods have seat of awe
in yonder distant sky, and ye whose power
is in the keeping of the deep, blue sea:
if victory to Ausonian Turnus fall,
then let my vanquished people take its way
unto Evander’s city! From these plains
Iulus shall retire — so stands the bond;
nor shall the Trojans with rebellious sword
bring after-trouble on this land and King.
But if on arms of ours success shall shine,
as I doubt not it shall (may gods on high
their will confirm!), I purpose not to chain
Italian captive unto Teucrian lord,
nor seek I kingly power. Let equal laws
unite in federation without end
the two unconquered nations; both shall share
my worshipped gods. Latinus, as my sire,
shall keep his sword, and as my sire receive
inviolable power. The Teucrians
shall build my stronghold, but our citadel
shall bear forevermore Lavinia’s name.”
Aeneas thus: then with uplifted eyes
Latinus swore, his right hand raised to heaven:
“I too, Aeneas, take the sacred vow.
By earth and sea and stars in heaven I swear,
by fair Latona’s radiant children twain,
and two-browed Janus; by the shadowy powers
of Hades and th’ inexorable shrines
of the Infernal King; and may Jove hear,
who by his lightnings hallows what is sworn!
I touch these altars, and my lips invoke
the sacred altar-fires that ‘twixt us burn:
we men of Italy will make this peace
inviolate
, and its bond forever keep,
let come what will; there is no power can change
my purpose, not if ocean’s waves o’erwhelm
the world in billowy deluge and obscure
the bounds of heaven and hell. We shall remain
immutable as my smooth sceptre is”
(By chance a sceptre in his hand he bore),
“which wears no more light leaf or branching shade;
for long since in the grove ‘t was plucked away
from parent stem, and yielded to sharp steel
its leaves and limbs; erewhile ‘t was but a tree,
till the wise craftsman with fair sheath of bronze
encircled it and laid it in the hands
of Latium’s royal sires.” With words like these
they swore the bond, in the beholding eyes
of gathered princes. Then they slit the throats
of hallowed victims o’er the altar’s blaze,
drew forth the quivering vitals, and with flesh
on loaded chargers heaped the sacrifice.
But to Rutulian eyes th’ approaching joust
seemed all ill-matched; and shifting hopes and fears
disturbed their hearts the closer they surveyed
th’ unequal risks: still worse it was to see
how Turnus, silent and with downcast eyes,
dejectedly drew near the place of prayer,
worn, pale, and wasted in his youthful bloom.
The nymph Juturna, with a sister’s fear,
noted the growing murmur, and perceived
how all the people’s will did shift and change;
she went from rank to rank, feigning the shape
of Camers, scion of illustrious line,
with heritage of valor, and himself
dauntless in war; unceasingly she ran
from rank to rank, spreading with skilful tongue
opinions manifold, and thus she spoke:
“Will ye not blush, Rutulians, so to stake
one life for many heroes? Are we not
their match in might and numbers? O, behold
those Trojan sons of Heaven making league
with exiled Arcady; see Tuscan hordes
storming at Turnus. Yet we scarce could find
one foe apiece, forsooth, if we should dare
fight them with half our warriors. Of a truth
your champion brave shall to those gods ascend
before whose altars his great heart he vows;
and lips of men while yet on earth he stays
will spread his glory far. Ourselves, instead,
must crouch to haughty masters, and resign
this fatherland upon whose fruitful fields
we dwell at ease.” So speaking, she inflamed
the warriors’ minds, and through the legions ran
increasing whisper; the Laurentine host
and even Latium wavered. Those who late
